1. He babbles and foams with rhymes, you'd think them
The blasts of cannons on the skyline of orchards.

2. From every rhyme, as if God had shaped it
From the flames of Hell, a drawing of devils.

3. God endowed him with rhymes, confounding them.
He chose him, Glory to Him, with kaf and nun.

4. Sense escapes him a while, then comes back to him,
Then he mixes, confused, measure and nonsense.

5. The poor listener can't rely on his sanity
From Kurdufan to the heights of Palestine,

6. While you see him hailing people in Aleppo,
Then challenging folk in China the next minute.

7. Yet that wasn't from whim or dementia -
But the genius flights of the masters.

8. He passes the night weaving gilded dreams
Whose interpretations outdo Ibn Sirin's.

9. Now a minister ubiquitous in office,
Controlling affairs in each department,

10. Now the husband of a slender, languid beauty,
A fair one commanding thousands of suitors,

11. Exempted from dowry in honor of his beard
And all the worldly and religious shadows it casts.